


Derelinquo

by AuditoryCheesecake



Series: A Cheesecake's Tumblr Shorts [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Established Relationship, Growing Old Together, M/M, Post-Trespasser, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/pseuds/AuditoryCheesecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have the villa, and that should be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derelinquo

**Author's Note:**

> "Derelinquo" translates roughly to "I forsake, abandon, discard, or desert," or perhaps, "I bequeath," and it can't be a coincidence that it sound like "I relinquish."

They have the villa, of course. They’ve had it for years. A quiet retreat good for a week or two, for secrecy, for staying inside and talking only to each other and the occasional member of the discrete, loyal staff who maintained it in their absences.

They have the villa. It’s small and isolated. An unlikely place Dorian rides to cloaked and hooded and Bull walks to on a hunter’s path that winds through forests and swamps and the lands of people whose silence they’ve bought with threats and gold and favors.

They have the villa, and it has been enough. Enough to see Bull at rare intervals, rushed and always a little anxious, but sometimes all the sweeter for that. Enough to feel like it had become their home, to expect to see Bull in their bed, to know the hallways even in the dark. It had been enough for years.

He tells Bull about the newest batch of young magisters over an early dinner. He complains about the Florianus boy and the heeled shoes he’d brought back into fashion, the upstart; and Julia’s pet project to change the Imperium’s official language from Ancient Tevene to Trade; and Cornelia’s blithe insistence that she would marry her soperatus lover, and the shocking lack of assassination by her family, which was as good as a blessing of the union. 

Bull laughs at him. “Times are changing, aren’t they?” His wide fingers pinch a tiny silver fork, offering Dorian the last bite of cake. “You’re part of the old guard now.”

It’s true. He is becoming, of all things, a relic. The thought is a pleasant one. The season’s most popular plays bore him and no good books have been written in twenty years. He had passed by a wedding on the way to the villa, and the bride had offered him a cup of wine; sharing joy with a traveler increased her own. The marks on her wrists and neck showed she was a freed slave, though her husband was soperatus, free from birth. Dorian had helped pen the law that allowed their marriage, and he had wept once he was on the road again, to know that he had done something good.

Their villa is a pocket of peace that has weathered even their most uncertain years. They have returned again and again, despite everything. Perhaps someday soon they can leave together.


End file.
